Jamie arrived at the beach house at around ten in the morning, just as the heat was beginning to take hold. He parked his car in the front yard and lugged his stuff into the house, where he was greeted by the cool, musty smell that brought back so many childhood holidays. Everything was as it had been for years: a little ramshackle, the uneven wooden floor never entirely clean of sand, a couple of bean bags and a big wicker easy chair. It wasn't luxury, but in Jamie's mind it was just perfect. He'd just finished his exams and was looking forward to a week of surfing, playing his guitar, and possibly chasing some girls.
After he'd thrown his stuff in is room, he decided to take a shower. He'd been in such a hurry to get down there that morning he hadn't showered before he left. Standing under the hot water in the tiny bathroom, he felt the muscles he'd barely had a chance to use to use for the past six weeks. There was a longing in them for the surf, for the effort of climbing the dunes, the whole unified involvement of his body as he rode a wave into the beach. God, he'd hardly been alive for months! The reawakening of his body brought an unexpected flush of arousal to his groin. He savoured it, standing back a little to let the water beat down on his penis, which swelled up lazily.
He closed his eyes and briefly imagined that the sensations were caused by a girl's mouth — not that he really knew what that was like. He'd had one girlfriend at uni, but she was an unhappy, inhibited creature, and while he wasn't knocking the sex—what they'd had of it—it had hardly been adventurous. She wouldn't let him go down on her and she certainly wasn't putting her mouth anywhere near his "thing." She admitted to not liking penises all that much, the look of them anyway — she said they reminded her of a turkey.
He soaped his erection, enjoying it, but not masturbating. He was relishing the sexual energy in his body and, for the time, didn't want to release it. He let his hard-on subside, though by the time he got out of the shower his cock was still heavy, his balls full and aching. He looked down at it, emerging thick and flushed from the wet tangle of his pubic hair, and felt virile and hungry.
At that moment the door opened and a woman burst in, almost crashing into him before reeling back in surprise and dropping a small bag she was holding on the floor. Toothbrushes and bits and pieces spilled out. A moment later Jamie recognised her as Jacqueline, his older brother Pete's girlfriend. They'd met once before, briefly, about six months previously, but had only exchanged pleasantries.
She gave a little yelp of surprise and fright, then stood there frozen on the spot, her eyes very obviously on his cock. For a few strange moments they both just stood there immobilised, she seemingly unable to look away from his still half-erect penis and he just standing there, feeling her eyes on him. Then the spell broke. Flustered, Jamie got down on his haunches and started picking up the things on the floor, apologising profusely. It was only as he held them out to her that he realised he was holding condoms. She hesitated, then snatched them from him, a flush spreading upwards from her chest, turning her face crimson.
Jamie stood up, now recovered enough to cover himself properly. Then there was a male voice calling her name. Her eyes opened wide and she backed out of the room hastily, shutting the door behind her without a word.
He towelled and dressed hurriedly and came out of the bathroom to find his brother Pete unpacking his stuff in the living room, taking the place over in his usual oblivious fashion.
"Jamie!" he said, surprised but apparently not too fussed. "What the hell are you doing here mate?"
"I've booked the place with Mum and Dad for this week Pete. What are you doing here?"
"Felt like a break mate. Need to hit the surf, eh."
He kept rummaging in the bag with his great, ginger-haired arms, not looking at his brother, his sandy hair flopping over his eyes. Jamie didn't ask exactly what he needed a break from. Last thing he heard Pete had been unemployed, occasionally lugging bricks for a mate when the rare urge to work struck him.
Jacqueline appeared in the doorway, her arms full of bedclothes.
"Looks like we got company," Pete said to her. "Jamie, you've met Jac haven't you?"
"Er... yep, sure. How's it going?" He attempted a casual smile.
"Good thanks." She didn't meet his eye. "Where do I put this Pete?"
"Er, second door on the left babe."
She sidled past Jamie, excusing herself.
"Pete," said Jamie, "you should have booked with Mum. I was looking forward to—"
"Share and share alike." Pete straightened, squinting at Jamie with his pale blue eyes. He was a tall, muscular bloke who took his dominance for granted. A washed out Billabong t-shirt was stretched tight over his flat, hard torso. He reached out and slapped Jamie across the shoulder with a big freckled hand. "You don't mind do ya?"
Jamie shook his head. "Whatever. You're unbelievable."
He wanted to apologise to Jacqueline for the shock he'd given her, the whole embarrassing scene, but an appropriate moment just didn't seem to present itself. Pete was in and out, dragging in his surfboard, or filling the fridge with beers, and Jacqueline was busy with making up the bed or putting food on the shelves and Jamie could feel the moment for apology slipping past. Really he just wanted to clear up the awkwardness, but she seemed determined to pretend it had never happened.
That night he heard them having sex. Every noise was transmitted through the sagging old house, the movement of the bed causing a symphony of creaking in the loose beams and walls. He tried not to think about Pete's great rough body on top of her, crashing into her. His mind wandered to the scene in the bathroom, the way her eyes had taken in his torpid, heavy penis. They'd both acted strangely. She'd kept staring at his cock and he'd not even really tried to cover himself. There was no getting away from the fact that he had enjoyed her looking at him, and she ... who knew what she thought, but she had certainly kept staring. And then she'd acted so guiltily, it was as if they'd both been caught out in some illicit act.
His cock hardened thinking about it. He re-imagined the scene, picturing himself pushing her up against the wall, lifting her denim skirt. At the same time, the creaking from the other room reached its violent crescendo and he heard her cry out. To his shame it aroused him even more. He was fantasising about his brother's girlfriend — while Pete was fucking her. It was all messed up.
When he came in in the morning, Jacqueline was stretched out on the beanbag, soaking in sun like a cherry in brandy. Her t-shirt was pulled up to just under her breasts, exposing a dune of hot skin glowing in the sun. She sat up a little as he came in but didn't pull down the shirt.
"Hi Jamie."
"Hi."
Pete was devouring a massive plate of bacon and eggs at the table, trowelling the food into the wide slot of his mouth.
"Eh bro!" he said, spitting wet crumbs of toast onto the table. "You gonna come surfing today? We'll do Bells — heard it's goin' off down there today. Whaddya say?"
"Sure thing." He glanced at Jacqueline. "Do you surf?"
"Don't be stupid," said Pete. "Jacqueline's a total wuss. Aren't ya Jac?"
"I'm not as chicken as you think."
"Oh yeah?" Pete roared. "Name one gutsy thing you've done, babe. Just name one!"
She was silent for a bit. Then she said, "I've done brave stuff, just not bungy-jumping or anything that would count to you."
Pete looked at Jamie. "See? Total sook."
Jamie shrugged. "Well if it helps, I wouldn't bungy jump either," he said to Jacqueline.
Pete wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah, you're both as bad as one another. Come on, let's get going."
They drove down in Pete's old FJ Holden, Jacqueline and Jamie sitting in the back and not looking at one another while Pete drove at his usual reckless speed, one freckled, hairy elbow resting on the open window while he steered casually with his left hand.
It was true that the waves were big at Bells. Great ranks of clean, glassy breakers just begging to be ridden. While they paddled into the waves, Jacqueline lay on the beach reading and sunbathing and occasionally running down to the water to cool off in the sparkling shallow-water surf. Jamie wasn't surfing well. Apart from the fitness he was lacking after months at a study desk, he was distracted. His mind wasn't on what he was doing; it was on Jacqueline's distant body, stretched out on the beach towel up under the lee of the cliff. After one nasty wipe-out, he decided he had an excuse to take a break and he dragged his board up the sand to where she was lying. She propped herself up on her elbows and smiled up at him from under her sunnies.
"How is it?"
"Gnarly. Yeah, bloody gnarly actually. Take a look..." He showed her his forearm, grazed bloody from the wipe-out.
